Yearnings: A Paranormal Romance Box Set (91 page)

Did she want other things? Yes. It took everything in her to think the right words. But asking relieved a bit of the tension. Not hers. Well, not all hers. The room breathed the tension at her like a hot breeze that came in all directions. Jacob hesitated. He must feel it, too—the almost tangible desperation and hope surrounding them.

Alive and dead.

Jacob’s hands disappeared, releasing hers. Leigh concentrated, searching Jacob out. But the whiteness in her mind filled with murky darkness. “Jacob? Where are you?”

Life and death.

“
I don’t understand, Jacob.” The dark gave way to a soft, tiny, and glowing orb. The orb multiplied into a thousand orbs. They sprinkled into the dark like sand. One sparked brighter than the others. A firefly captured in a jar. But not a jar. Not glass. Too soft. The image faded away. What was he trying to show her? She waited for that push of energy, listening for his voice to tell her.

Jacob, please. Don’t go.

The softest touch of fingers brushed her cheek. A single glowing orb popped back into her mind’s view. It came rushing at her, a growing bubble of golden light. Leigh gripped something hard underneath her, but couldn’t otherwise move.
Whoosh
! The orb slammed into her chest like a fist, punching the air from her lungs.

“
Jacob!”

The glow lit from inside her, fire-hot, and burst into a thousand sparks, singeing her from the inside out. “Jacob? Please,” she implored

Run....

The connection severed. Leigh opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Grant’s face. Blurry. Wobbly. Her vision filled in the details of the rest of him. His shoulders. A lock of his hair. His eyes were more gray than blue now. Why did they have to change color like that? Didn’t her world change enough as it was? Couldn’t she depend on a man’s eyes staying constant?

Awareness bled into her body. She was on her back on the floor. His thick arms were braced on either side of her, but he didn’t touch her. Leigh drew in an unsteady breath, but her hearing and vision came through like being underwater.

Beatrice’s voice penetrated the roar in her ears. “Eeeshhumookjjaaay?” Her face peered above Grant’s shoulder, eyes wide, hair disheveled.

Leigh blinked, trying to set the blur right. Her bearings adjusted. His eyes sharpened. She latched on to the sight of his eyes. The outermost circle was dark.
.
Shades of blue radiated from the iris. The pupils zoomed in and out.

“
Leigh? Leigh, are you all right?” Beatrice asked.

A question or two made it through the thick mud of her thoughts. She only nodded. She didn’t risk looking away from Grant’s face, or away from those eyes. What had happened? Why was she on the floor?

“
Give her some space,” a male voice said.

Cool wetness met her forehead. Grant’s face threatened to move away. Leigh fumbled for his arm, finding purchase on a thick bicep. The feel of his muscle penetrated her mind. The massive size and rock-hardness anchored her. “Stay,” she whispered.

Grant moved his face closer, nodding. He licked his lips. Nice lips. Full. Kissable. “Okay. I’ll stay.” His breath smelled like powdered sugar. Leigh wanted to close her eyes and inhale it in big gulps. Would his mouth taste like sugar? “You’re safe now. Just relax. Breathe.”

Her eyes fluttered closed. The cool rag on her face felt good. Kissing Grant would be more foolish than chasing Henry across an ocean. Not that he had any interest in putting his mouth on hers, pressing, coaxing. Ludicrous to even imagine. She was disoriented. That was all. Once she righted herself, once she returned to herself, she’d be able to laugh at these silly ideas. Within a few minutes, she sat up with Grant’s help.

“
Take it slow.”

She nodded, sipping the water Beatrice brought her. “What happened?” Leigh asked.

Beatrice frowned. “You don’t remember?”

Looking from face to face, frown to frown, and landing finally on Grant’s, she shook her head. “I remember what I saw and heard. What did I do? Fall?” Worse?

All three squirmed. That bad? Her clothes were dry. She hadn’t wet herself, thank goodness. Nothing could possibly be worse than losing control of her bladder. Leigh pressed a hand to her damp forehead. “Just tell me what happened. I can handle it.”

Grant stood up, leaving her sitting on the floor. Beatrice took his place and clasped one of Leigh’s hands. “Nothing unseemly. Not to worry. You were just rather, um, affectionate with Grant. Nothing unseemly at all.”

Leigh frowned. If it wasn’t unseemly, why say so at all? “Define affectionate, please?”

Nick stepped forward. “Affectionate meaning the act of showing physical attentions, my dear.” He crouched opposite Beatrice, offering her a hand up.

Leigh smacked his hand away. “I know what it means. One of you, please, tell me what I did.” She got to her feet, proud that she only felt a bit dizzy. “So help me, I’m not made of glass.”

“
You touched his face a bit. That’s all.”

“
Murmured a few terms of endearment,” Nick added, wriggling his eyebrows.

Nothing so bad, then. So that was why she’d felt Jacob’s face. Not his face at all, but Grant’s stubbly jaw. Had it been his breath on her skin, too? She touched the area behind her ear, which sent a shiver down her back. “What did I say?”

“
No wasps this time,” Grant said, leaning against the wall.

He stared into space, contemplative. Where had his concern from a moment ago gone? Had she made up the fire in his eyes as they held to hers, speaking to her with pure emotion?

Beatrice took a seat. “Butterflies? Fireflies?”

Leigh rubbed her palm over her forehead. She shut her eyes and searched for meaning in the details and images. Jacob had spent so much energy on the wolf that she’d lost the thread and hadn’t been able to get to what Bea needed so deeply—some sort of confirmation as to whether her son still lived.

Or not.

She refused to consider the possibility. Not until Jacob quashed all hope. Not until he brought the boy by the hand through to her as irrefutable evidence. Until then, she would kindle Beatrice’s hope with all her might and justify it with facts as best she could. Oh, Beatrice. Leigh looked, really looked, at her sitting there, wringing her hands like rags.

Leigh went to her. She knelt and peered up at the first woman she could truly call a friend. “I saw a tiny light that grew and grew. Then it expanded into a thousand yellow stars in an empty black.” Her words weren’t lifting Beatrice’s spirits at all. The opposite. Tears shone in the woman’s eyes, so like Grant’s, yet so different. Dots instead of spokes. “One hit me here.” She touched her chest. “It filled me up and I could feel it.” A tear slid down Beatrice’s cheek. She took a fortifying breath, and Leigh knew she was bracing for the worst. “Tristan is alive.”

Beatrice’s small cry knifed through Leigh’s heart, a double edge of joy and fear. She regretted, and yet stood by, her reassurance. Down in her bones, Leigh believed she was telling the truth. Only part of her feared that she might be wrong. What evidence said that any six-year-old boy could survive, when his uncle had only done so thanks to the kindness of a stranger?

She would not take it back, though.

She wanted to. She wanted to break down and beg Beatrice to see how vague this impossible gift could be. Fireflies, wasps, and butterflies. That was the best she could do? Oh, and let us not forget stroking Grant’s too-handsome face. Why did she have to suddenly find him so handsome? She liked it better when he intimidated her.

Leigh squeezed Beatrice’s hands, and with conviction, said, “I swear to you, we will find him.”

Life and death. Alive and dead.
Leigh would solve the riddle somehow. If she could get Jacob away from his fixation with the wolf and help him see how important this had become. Did he see the wolf now? Was he with her in the room? She couldn’t be sure. Her senses were skewed, and her energy was depleted. She didn’t know where to begin. But her vow comforted Beatrice, and that sufficed for now.

Beatrice’s sudden hug caught Leigh by surprise. Only her mother had ever held her so closely and tightly. Even her dad had rarely held her, and when he did, it was in such a tender, careful way. Little by little, Leigh returned the hug. Love for Beatrice engulfed her.

“
I need a word with Leigh,” Grant said, his voice a heavy rumble. “Alone, please.”

Leigh turned away so that no one would see her wiping at her eyes. Crying never got a person anywhere, and would make whatever Grant had to say to her harder to hear. What if he wanted to call her a liar in private, or demanded to know more about Henry? She should just tell him, that’s all.

“
Five minutes,” Nick said.

“
Twenty,” Grant said, and the door closed hard.

Beatrice and Nick left. That was it? They hardly hesitated. Didn’t they worry about him alone with her still? What had changed? Better yet, why did she worry about being alone with him? Leigh wiped her cheeks once more. The silence slowly ate away her resolve. Emotions reined in, she faced him. She hadn’t realized that he had come so close. Heavy lids shadowed his eyes, helping to hide his intentions in those stormy depths.

“
Oh,” she said, her breathing hitched.

The stubble on his jaw, his lips, his damned penetrating eyes, and all of him overwhelmed the tenuous hold she had on her senses. “If...if I touched...I’m sorry.”

“
You reached out for me,” Grant said, reaching out for her, his hand finding her waist.

She floundered. He stood too close for her to think straight. Good judgment should have her stepping back. Instead, her body leaned in. “I did?” she managed.

“
You held my face,” he said, demonstrating by grazing his knuckles up her throat, and then stopping at her cheek.

She should be mortified, but there was no room for it. The feel of his hand, the heat of his body, and breadth of his shoulders occupied all space, all thought. “I didn’t realize what I was doing,” she offered.

Grant traced the outer shell of her ear. His eyes remained stormy, intense, and utterly unreadable. “I didn’t mind.”

She swallowed. A voice inside her told her to stop what was coming. But she was too intrigued. “Y...you didn’t?”

He shook his head. His hand clasped the back of her neck, and before she could think to stop him, his lips descended on hers. Warm, soft, and firm, at first he merely pressed. Leigh had the fleeting thought that perhaps he did not want to kiss her at all, that he was still somehow deciding. The air from his nose tickled hers. She breathed him in. Her weight leaned in to his. His lips moved against hers. Slowly. Pressing, barely sucking, his arm wound around her back and pulled her flush against him.

“
What are you doing to me?” he whispered against her mouth, but gave her no chance to respond, capturing her lips. Parting them with his warm, soft tongue.

Oh, Jesus, his lips! Heaven existed on his lips. His tongue wasn’t done. He tortured her with every tentative delve toward her lips. On, but not in. She parted hers, aching for more. So much confusing, elusive more. Mirroring his movement, she touched her tongue to his. His deep groan called to her deep down inside.

Leigh gasped. She held on to his shoulders. Strange heat vibrated up her belly, down it. Up her thighs. In between them, whirling higher and coiling tight. She didn’t know what worried her more, the acute sensations pulling her under, or the chance of Grant coming to his senses and letting her go.

No
, a part of her begged.
Don’t ever let go.

His tongue wound against hers ever so slowly. Her curiosity became full interest. She wanted more. Now. Faster and deeper, until this heat consumed them both. Leigh moaned into his mouth. Her arms found their way down his chest and up his sides, up his back. The curved roundness of his shoulders became her threshold. That voice inside warned her to stop. She ignored it. She ignored everything but the feelings coalescing inside her. She held on tight and leaned her pelvis in.

Grant groaned. He broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. His breaths were pants. Leigh trembled. She moved closer to get more.

“
Leigh,” he rasped. “You have to stop.”

What did he mean, stop? His tone penetrated her desire. Oh, Jesus. Stop. Before they were in a marrying way and so much more. She stepped back, stumbling. He caught her. She took his forearms, righted her balance, and let go. Realization flooded her. “I have to stop? You said you needed to speak with me,” she said, jabbing a finger at him.

“
I meant to.”

“
I don’t believe you.”

She paced in a circle, smoothing her hair, telling her heart to thump a normal beat, her ears to shush, her body to give up its demands. She would not fulfill those demands. Oh, dear, what had she done? “You need to leave.”

“
I know.”

She pointed at the door. “Go, then. Leave.” Before she attacked him like a wild thing, tearing at his clothes just to feed the need aching near her belly. Lower than her belly. Only he could make it go away. Her body knew it, and screamed at her to get more. More of that.